Beautiful Lies and the Hideous Truths
by KingIradescense
Summary: The finishing touch was a rosy pink mat in front of the door, the word 'Welcome' written in lovely script. Such a beautiful lie.
1. Chapter 1

**Trigger Warnings: Domestic Abuse - Alcohol Abuse - Drug Abuse - Induced Vomiting - Bullying - Attempted Suicide - Smoking**

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The look of dejection on Toriel's face almost made you want to scream, and to change your mind and go live with these motherly person that just had so much maternal love to give, but delaying your return even longer than the time you've been gone would produce far less desirable consequences than those from your current dilemma. With this thought in mind, you wished your friends farewell, idly wondering if you could have gotten away with accepting Asgore's offer to become the Ambassador. The more logical part of your mind quickly shushed it, reasoning that you would never be able to exactly show up at any sort of meeting around and about or gathering, and somehow you doubted video calls would be enough to cut it. You started the long way down the mountain, wishing the sun wasn't so cheery on this particular day that you likely had just spoken to them to the last time as friends. The next time may be distant acquaintances, if there even would be a next time.

As soon as you were sure they could no longer see you, with the occasional squinted glances over your shoulder, you ducked behind a bit of foliage and opened your eyes for the first time in awhile, something you only did one or two times in the underground when no one else was around. It took awhile to adjust to the light, even though you crouched in a shadow larger than you, but you patiently waited for your left pupil to finish re-sizing itself. Your right eye sat there, absolutely useless; dead, so to speak. You idly groaned at the thought of having to find your medical eye patch. When you had gone to Mt. Ebott a few months earlier, you hadn't brought it with you, figuring you wouldn't need it where you were going.

That turned out to be incorrect.

True, you hadn't needed it per- _say_ , but you would rather no one seeing, and ended up walking around with your eyes closed, something you often did when you couldn't find the eye patch. It had definitely hurt a little when Papyrus asked why you always kept your eyes closed, and you instead replied with another question, easily evading it. He had honestly wanted to know, and you, in certain context, had shot him down. True, every 'friend' you had made in the past turned around and stabbed you in the back, but... they hadn't. They hadn't stabbed you in the back. You didn't feel that little prick in your chest, or that craving in your lungs; not even that little itch upon your flesh.

You had gotten used to it. It was... nice. What a foolish mistake, in hindsight, but that didn't matter now. You weren't about to RESET and ruin your friends' happy ending by shutting down, like you normally did. Far sooner than you would have liked, you found yourself standing by a familiar bus stop in your neighborhood, with legs like lead and feet like cement blocks, as you continued towards a row of rather petite houses; almost like little dollhouses. Each were two stories tall, and all colored in some shade of pastel. Muscle memory carried you past the rainbow pallete, until reaching a blue house with white window frames and dark brown, near-black rubbery-looking shingles. A short set of white stairs led up to a wide, pale, yellow porch, something akin to a fancy picket fence around its perimeter. Right at the outer corner, where fence met wall, was a porch swing that hung from a slanted overhang that was supported by curvaceous, symmetrical columns. The actual swing itself was made of the same light yellow wood that made up the porch, though woven in much smaller pieces and shinier due to the treatments. The bed had a white background, and covered with whimsically painted flowers of all different shades of red and pink, with little pollen stems varying between yellow and orange. There were two large pillows that matched this same pattern in the two corners of the seat itself, then two smaller ones in front of each, one entirely pink and the other entirely white.

Just a few feet over to the right was a birch door with a glass pane at eye level, though view of the interior was currently blocked by a still curtain. The finishing touch was a rosy pink mat in front of the door, the word 'Welcome' written in lovely script.

A beautiful lie.

The cinnamon bunny you ate earlier that day sat heavily in your stomach as you not-so-eagerly fished a key out of your back pocket, which you had somehow not lost on your adventures, though you wish you had. It would be an excuse to call up Toriel and tell her than you were unable to stay with those you had said you would, and maybe you would even be able to join her at her new place of residence. The same phone you had used throughout your time in the Underground weighed heavily in your other pocket, almost begging you to flip it open and call someone up.

You were filled with determination to not bother your friends.

Your hand went and took the key out of your pocket, and opened the door, to reveal an innocent-looking foyer, save for some odd, minor details one might only notice if highly observant, specifically looking for the general idea of what they are, or simply by chance. For example, on the right side of a little brown and pink carpet leading down the hall into a conjoined kitchen and dining room was a grey mat that looked like it belonged on the floor of a car, with a few pairs of men's size shoes on them, save for one pair of military boots that were a smaller size than the others, and the pair you currently wore. A few pictures were nearly aligned and spaced along the wall, and all of them included a man. One was with him holding a bowling trophy, another with a group of friends, perhaps, and so on in this manner. There were, however, no pictures of any children, or you, specifically, of you around. No toys lay around, no figurines or stuffed animals, no mirrors or cute little make-your-own-jewelry boxes; in fact, as if the lack of pictures didn't explain it clearly enough, it was as if a single man lived here with no one else. As if you didn't exist. For the longest time, the only 'absolute' thing that proclaimed your presence in this world was your birth certificate.

You quickly and quietly slipped your shoes off onto the mat, shivering at the thought of tracking whatever had amassed onto the bottom of your shoes through his house. When you were still in first grade, you recalled having an assignment to draw a picture with you and someone else, and you had been doing it in the living room when you accidentally went off the paper. You didn't notice it at the time, but your father, being a bit of a clean freak, noticed and 'appropriately' punished you. You mused in a rather sardonic way about the irony of the whole situation, being the fact that you had been drawing you and the man in question for Father's Day.

With long-practiced movements and foot placement, you tip-toed through the house as quickly as possible, your feet always landing where you knew the floorboards would not creak, almost like a ghost. Though there was no need for this, seeing as he was not home to disturb, you continued on in this pattern of movement from sheer force of habit until finally reaching your room, where you quickly shut the door and went over to your plain, black backpack, easily sifting through many items you wished you currently did not wish to consume, until finally coming upon a white, slightly rectangular eye patch. Alphys probably would have likened it to the one from Tokyo Ghoul, the thought slipping in like it naturally belonged there, but you soon pushed it away and pulled it on, effectively covering your right eye. Your favorite hoodie followed soon after. It was nearly entirely black, save for a perfect square in the middle of the chest reaching from just below your collarbone to halfway down your stomach, with several shades of blue across it, the top being mostly darker and the bottom being mostly lighter. It smelled faintly of iron - and shattered hope, you almost giggled in a not-too-happy way - but, despite that, eagerly pulled it on and curled up into it, easily being much larger than your actual size. A false feeling of security overcame you from being in your large shield.

A beautiful lie.

Your left eye slowly roamed about the room, re-acquainting itself with the rather bare room. There was a simply creamy rug that covered the entire floor, and though scratchy, your tired feet easily welcomed it. The walls weren't much better off, a more pinkish color than anything else, maybe even likened to cotton candy. As for furnishings, there wasn't much in that regard, either. A brass bed with a tired-looking mattress with no covers, an old, thick, yellowed blanket, and the actual pillow itself with no case were messily arranged on the browned skeleton of the bed. A little desk sat at the foot of it, facing towards the only window in the room, though currently closed off by cheap-looking, browned blinds, with a single drawer on the left hand side and a crummy table lamp on one corner. It didn't look much better than the blinds, and the same could be said for the little closet in the corner, between the door to the bathroom and the one leading back to another foyer, not being the same one from before. It wasn't too big, due to you not having many clothes; heck, it just barely reached the halfway mark. In one corner of the inside was a large group of shopping backs, though you rarely use them.

The bathroom certainly looked nicer, if anything, but wasn't actually much better itself. It was a cramped space with everything placed based on using as little space as possible. In the furthest corner of the bathroom, which was only a few steps away, was a shower with glass panes for walls, just wide enough for you to stand in, and tall enough to touch the ceiling, though the door on one side certainly did not. Directly next to that was a short, white toilet, and on the opposite side of that was a simple white sink with a mirror about it, and an orange laundry hamper next to that. Both the walls and the floor were tiled, the floor being white and the walls being blue. Due to the way they seamlessly sat at each other's side, leaving little space for any attaching materials, it had a rather pearly visual.

A churning in your stomach forced you to turn your attention back to yourself. It churned again, the partially digested treat rolling around in your stomach like a stone; so you did something you stopped hesitating about a long time ago, even if you hadn't done it for awhile. It took a few tries, and eventually your toothbrush, but soon enough you were rinsing the taste of stomach acid and cinnamon from your mouth while any evidence of what you had just done vanished down the drain. Right as you were spitting out the water for the third time, you heard the front door open and close, and were quick to rush to the kitchen, having forgotten when he came home from work, or whatever he actually did during the day. You immediately began rummaging through the refrigerator and cupboards alike for all and any food you might find; sadly, your father had not been too keen on keeping up with shopping while you were gone and unable to perform the chore. You weren't fast enough, and soon a tall man wearing a casual outfit strolled into the house, though with slightly reddened cheeks, had a calm expression on his face and no evidence of anger was present.

A beautiful lie.

He left his shoes the same place you had, and you could hear his breath hitch, likely from seeing your own shoes there. His feet thudded rapidly on the floor, already a sure sign his temper was building. As soon as he saw you in the kitchen, you did something you hadn't in a long time, even after being with this man nearly your entire life; you struggled not to cry simply from his seething aura. His eyes locked onto you for a good minute, and you saw no humanity or mercy in them. Needless to say, when all was said and done and you finally managed to serve him a meal, though resulting in another slap across your quickly bruising arm, you held back a wince and fell asleep without the help of pills tonight. You wondered if that was maybe because of how tiring your adventure had actually been, now that all was said and done. When you woke up with the following morning with bruises and scrapes alike, though none on your face as usual, you felt that prick at your heartstrings, that craving in your lungs, and that itch on your flesh.

That is the hideous truth.

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 **Word Count: 2,288**


	2. Chapter 2

A snickering matchbox is quite a funny thing at times, two even more so. However, with three you feel sick with realization, and it only became worse with time after that. If only you cared enough to appease the five in your backpack, but it was too early, you thought. Not while you were only walking to school in the morning, with the building in sight. Be... determined. The closer and close you got, the more and more the structure loomed over you. Despite its cheery exterior, you knew that noncommital faculty awaited inside, uncaring about actually doing their jobs, much less about the death count your school had. Not that anyone was actually murdered by a second party, but among the reasons were overdosing and suicide. Honestly, the only reason the school _looked_ so cheerful was because the person who used to be principal way back when decided to 'radiate happiness to the surrounding neighborhood', but seeing as this neighborhood wasn't your own, you didn't quite understand why it had been worded that way, seeing as your neighborhood would vomit sparkles and unicorns on anyone who came near. Visually, anyway.

The newer principal, who was the old vice principal, couldn't care less about that sort of thing, so long as she was paid. The teachers also held the same mindset, perhaps the only person with any ounce of care in them being the old janitor, but no one listens to him because of his age and because all that was left of his hair were white strands on either side of his head and his little mustache. While the teachers occasionally did have to teach you some material, though not much, in order to give you quizzes and tests so there was actually something to put on the progress reports and report cards alike.

Your hoodie easily hung over your hands and face, as well as reaching down to about an inch below your thigh, while your eye patch sat in its proper place over your right eye, again filling you with a fake feeling of safety as you started scuffing your military boots on the ground, but a few meters away from the stairs leading up to the doors. It did not, however, at all silence the shock that left you frozen for a good minute when you saw Toriel outside, cheerful as ever, greeting unresponsive students as they filed in through the narrow spaces held open by rubber wedges. Even the matchboxes ceased their giggling, and in your mind's eye you imagined them inching away to hide somewhere, a hum of humor rising in your chest in response, just for a moment.

You wished your determination could show you how to sneak past or stop her from catching sight of you, just like she was doing now.

She looked up to see how many more students were coming in, and it took her a moment to notice and recognize you, maybe because your eye was open or due to your choice of clothing, her eyes lit up like stars at the sight of you. Though you didn't understand why you suddenly felt and acted on the impulse, you ran up to her and swept up in a warm, furry, tight hug that truly made you feel safe... for real. She put down moments later, and with a bit of grief you noted how the warmth felt, quickly sapping out of your body.

"Hello, my child!" She greeted excitedily, unable to contain her excitement. You got the feeling that even if she could, she wouldn't. "How are you?" You gave her two thumbs up, feeling a little numb as you did so, and plastered the biggest smile you could muster onto your features, fully accompanied by the rest of the muscles in your face, but then pointed to her, then to the school with a questioning look on your face. "Oh! See, for the last few days we all pitched in and did some odd jobs around town, and were able to get what's called an apartment for us all to share, so then we decided to look for more permanent jobs! And I saw this place, and it looked so happy, and I always wanted to be a teacher so I suggested we go inside and ask about job openings, and they just hired us on the spot!" You didn't know whether to jump for joy or cry a little inside, but instead made a circle with your thumb and index finger, like a piece of gold. "Oh, the nice lady who hired us said she would be paying us $300 at the end of each week... she said in cash, whatever that means." I guess some teachers quit while I was gone? Anyway, point for you, Principal Sixx, not allowing the government to tail you like that. Bet they're not even on the record, either. They probably think they're paying humans who don't even work here anymore.

Before another word could be said, the bell rang and you waved goodbye to Toriel as you fast-walked over to your homeroom, which had just become your English classroom. Before you even heard the teacher start calling attendance, your attention was already fixed to stare out the window and... think. However, when the teacher started talking, the voice sounded deeper than you remembered, or maybe you were being extremely observant, but you froze for the second time that day when you dared a look to the front and saw Sans going through the desk, apparently looking for the attendance sheet, seeing as he had said, "Alright, uh... so I guess I'm supposed to take attendance of you all, huh?" Your head snapped back to the side to stare out the window yet again, purposely first pulling your hair to cover the side of your face, then your hood, covering most of your face. You counted each name in your head as he called them out individually. If your memory served you right, you would be the eleventh.

"Woods, Cameron... Neal, Harvey... Barnes, Tyrone... Strickland, Todd... heh, probably a fan of Froggits," he paused to chuckle to himself, to which Todd hardly cared simply responding with 'Ohio' like everyone else had done, "Ortega, April... Manning, Tony... Phelps, Alicia... Medina, Latoya... Guadalupe, Adams... Kennedy, Eduardo.. hey, I heard that's a place here... alright uhh... Doe, Frisk." He stopped reading the names out loud, maybe to see who would answer. He turned his head slowly to scan the room, but you wanted to remain silent, until Cameron finally gave an audible groan and threw a large piece of paper at your back. "Hey, Frissy One-Eye, you gonna answer or not? Or did you forget your name while you vanished from this hell hole?" "Here." Your voice scratched a little but evened out quickly, likely from lack of use, but didn't bother turn to face the front.

He stared at you for a few seconds, then continuing attendance and pulled out a random textbook. After a few fruitless efforts to try and get something done, he tossed the book randomly. "Alright, I'm not _pun_ sonally _b_ one to wanna do work." It wasn't that good, but one of the girls sitting in the back giggled a little, and Sans' grin widened just a little... "Well, I have a skele-TON more where that came from!",and that was how the rest of the class was spent. As a comedy show, the teacher's desk as the stage, and the students as the audience. By the end of it, you were the only one who hadn't even turned to look at the skeleton, which said a lot, provided that nearly the entire class had their fair share of amusement. By the end of it, he was standing by the door, doing the loud-voice "Thank you, I'll be here all week!" thing. When you walked past, you were careful to keep your head down and hair hanging out, hands fully covered by your hoodies and quick to leave. Somehow, you knew his pupil was following you, but you tried to ignore it and relax your tensing muscles, especially around the neck.

For your next class you had math, something you fully disliked and didn't bother hiding it. When you saw Toriel at the front, though, you hushed your hatred and turned your head towards the window again, even though you were sitting more towards the middle of the classroom, convincing a few of your classmates that Frissy One-Eye was staring at them. She didn't bother with attendance, obviously, but through the corner of your eye you could see her glancing around the classroom, again not recognizing you. A little despair whispered to you in your mind, to start getting on your nerves; _You aren't very memorable, are you?_ She was, otherwise, overjoyed at teaching her class and showed as much enthusiam as possible, easily earning some of the more neutral students' attention.

You didn't see anyone else until lunch, where Papyrus was... among the lunch ladies, excitedly handing out food. You imagined he was a bit dejected at learning that he couldn't only serve pasta, but for quite a majority seemed to enjoy it. Once again, you kept your head down as you passed by, quietly thanking him for the meal, to which his smile grew tenfold as you skittered off to the school's roof. It's not as though someone is watching the cameras and actually caring about anything, right? Your determination had ran thin by now, and with a certain heaviness in your chest you hadn't felt in a long time, you pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it. You simply stared at the sky for the entirety of it, and once finished twisted it against the ground and tossed it into a pile against the wall, right when the door suddenly opened... and Alphys stepped out in front of you, though you was quick to pull my hood down yet again, as she stuttered out a sentence."U-Uhm, I-I'm sorry to, uh, bother you, but... I-I was w-watching the cameras, and... uh... I-uh, noticed you with, uh, a ci-cigarette... so, uh, I wanted to... uhm, inform you, that... you are not... not supposed to, uh, smoke in school... not-not only that, but it's-it's unhealthy, for... you... so, uh... I was... going to-uh, ask you to, pre-pretty please, stop?" "I, uhh... already finished. I'll keep that in mind for the future, though..." You replied a bit blankly, now carefully picking through the food you had been given. "Oh, uhh, okay! That-that's great news! I-uh, have to, uh... get back to the cameras... but I-I guess I'll see you, uh, around?" "Yeah, I guess so," you gnawed through a cold item that looked akin to a vegetable as you said that, and Alphys headed back down.

Next was Biology, and, surprise surprise, with Asgore, so, again with the hoodie and the window as Asgore passionately spoke about flowers, clearly enjoying it, even if you were supposed to be specifically talking about cells, even though he actually ended up giving gardening tips, and how a flower should be properly treated in all ways, along with vegetation in general... At some point in time, he had called on you to ask you something, or for your thoughts, but you remained unresponsive and pretended you didn't hear him, and the hurt in his voice as he backed down was like a knife being twisted into your chest. You were quick to leave, walking as quickly as you could make yourself without actually jogging, and, great enough, was gym with Undyne next. For a reason you never bothered to learn, Undyne took attendance yet again. She had a similar reaction to Sans when 'Doe, Frisk' came up, but you again responded the same way you did this morning, though immediately this time.

Most of the class was spent jogging, then with some exercises like push-ups and sit-ups, accompanied by Undyne's usual energetic yells all the way through. At the end, as you had done all day so far, you ducked your head and left the school immediately, marching off before you could run into any one of your monster friends, down the street from the school in minutes. Your phone buzzed with a new text, but you ignored it for the time being in favor of searching out a supermarket and make a few minor purchases on your father's credit card, something he never noticed due to how extravagant his own purchases were. It just was a much smaller difference, and therefore far too small for him to care.

Now, with arms full of shopping bags, you quickly headed back to your house, and from the distance, you saw a familiar blue hoodie, only causing you to nestle further into your own and quicken your pace, regardless of how your legs began to burn, not only because of the amount of weight you carried, but also as an aftermath of your gym class with Undyne today. Apparently he noticed you, as he came over casually, still not apparently recognizing you. "Hey, pal," he greeted, strolling alongside me. "Your name's Frisk, right? Frisk Doe?" You nodded, pausing to momentarily adjust your grip on the bags. He glanced at the bags, before speaking up again. 'Hey, you want some help with that? Tibia honest, that looks like a bit much for ya." You supressed a giggle; Sans' jokes were something you already missed, and you only felt guilty for feeling so tense around him. _What would he think if he knew?_ _About your addictions? Your home life? And what would the others think, as well?_ "Yes, please," you replied, carefully setting them down, your arms suddenly feeling weightless, though soon you felt gravity on them yet again.

With a simple flick of his hand, he levitated the bags in the air and you took this as a cue to start leading him back to your house, which you did so dutifully, remaining in the front, Sans in the middle, and the floating bags bringing up the rear. "Hey, kiddo... ya don't seem to have much of a problem with us monsters, much this spell." "What's there to have a problem with?" The typical answer would be 'just because', but he just hummed a bit in response and continued behind me. "Why do you think they hired us, and why the the other students didn't have much a problem?" "The faculty, to be frank, aren't the most observant or caring people. As for the students, they probably thought you were... cosplayers, or somethin'..." He didn't hum this time. When we finally reached the blue house, he looked around at the front exterior a little. "Nice house you have here, though it seems a bit big. I wonder if it gets _bonely_ in there..." Yet again, you almost giggled. "I guess it is a bit big for me and my dad, but it's nice." He hummed again, before continuing.

"Do you want me to take this inside for you?" "No, I got it from here... Thanks for you help though, S-.. I mean, Mr.. uhh.." "Sans," he responded with a little hint of something in his undertone you couldn't quite place, but responded anyway. "Just call me Sans." "Ok... Sans... Just call me Frisk, then," you spoke without thinking, and he paused for a moment. "Did I say something?" You hurriedly ask, mentally bashing yourself for being so stupid about it. "No. Alright, Frisk. I'll see you tomorrow. If you aren't there at all, I'll feel it _deep in my bones_ ," he spared one more smirk, to which you finally giggled a little. His grin widened as he then casually strode off, back towards the other neighborhood, assumingly towards an apartment complex, based on the information Toriel had given you earlier. You stared after him for a good minute, then hauling your load inside and quickly packing it away, immediately starting with pasta, salmon, and a third pot of sauce, carefully setting up each ingredient, mixing it, seasoning it, and all the like. Maybe you'd escape a punishment tonight, if you did this well.

It was a bit much to hope for.

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 **Word Count: 2,075**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I forgot to mention this in the prior chapter... the reason why no one is really fazed about the monsters is because they think they're just some weird group or club of cosplayers dressing up like it's a convention or Halloween or something.**

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The rest of the week passed only the slightest bit differently than how the day had gone. On Saturday, though, you got another three texts on your phone, in addition to the first. They were all from Toriel, but you ignored them for the time being in favor of making breakfast and avoiding your father until the afternoon, which you did easily, then retreating back to your room. An hour had passed since then, and you had long since heard the sound of a plate clatter in the sink and his heavy footsteps getting further and further away, until there was a click, followed by a slamming door. Regardless of this, you still didn't dare to leave your room but decided to check the texts from Toriel.

'hello dear child'. That was the one from earlier this week.

'im sry this is such short notice but today is papyrus birthday. will u come?'

'we forgot that u might live far away so we understand if you cant make it'

'pls come if you can child. papyrus would be very happy'

You read and reread the texts a few times, before finally replying with an answer that was the same as throwing yourself to hungry lions - or, in this case, your father. Every letter you tapped in worsened the feeling of impending doom upon yourself. Your father would not be happy if you weren't at the house, but... Papyrus is so... just a lovable loving goof with a monumental heart... if you missed his birthday... the first birthday about ground, too... you could deal with a few extra bruises and scrapes for his sake.

'ok'

So, you went ahead and nabbed one of your father's credit cards from where you stashed it in your backpack the previous night and ran out to the store, pushing your sore legs as fast as you could make them go, to get there as fast as you could and, from memory, moved expertly throughout the aisles, accumulating some of what would come together to be his birthday present; just enough to cover the bottom of the cart you wheeled around. First and foremost, obviously, was pasta. A few variations of it, actually. Some were typical kid's macaroni and cheese style pasta, some were angel hair, some were plain, and so on with the like. However, in addition, you also got him some new storybooks. Early on in your time at the Underground you learned that Sans would read Papyrus an adventure story book about a pink rabbit, and now that they were on the surface, you figured that maybe he would like a few new ones.

You also got one or two figurines of random superheroes without really bothering to look at the labels; somehow, you knew Papyrus would like them either way, probably since he didn't know exactly who they were or of the Aboveground's comics. Then, you went to a nearby convenience store where you got wrapping paper, a box, tape, scissors, and a cute birthday card that opened up to a blank castle page, with and a set of 4 crayons bound to the inside of the card by plastic. It may have been overdoing it, but this was the first birthday that you actually wanted to go to; the first birthday party where your presence was wanted... the first birthday party that you would actually go and have, at least, a decent time at.

Careful not to drop anything, you went back to your house just as fast as you had left it, went straight to your room, and started packing things inside. Being careful to save space, you lined up the pasta at the bottom of the box, the multiple storybooks on top of this, and the two figurines along the side, leaving just an inch or two of space at the top. Then, you closed it and taped it shut, and once you were sure it was secure, you wrapped it in the paper as nicely as you could. Admittedly, it wasn't the best one out there... you did feel a little bad about the way the wrapping had come out. You had tried your best - you really did, but it came out a little sloppy with thick layers permeating the cardboard. Hopefully Papyrus would like it anyway, you thought as you signed the card and placed it on top of the box, ditching the utensils on your bedroom floor.

After quickly changing - after all, they would recognize you by your clothes if you didn't - and spraying yourself with air freshener a few times over, resulting in a bit of dizziness on your part, though you didn't mind much... you were entirely willing to do this for your friends. Even if you would walk around and lose the other half of your sight for the rest of the evening.

You were filled with determination to help Papyrus have the best first Aboveground birthday ever.

As you started rather casually down the street, wearing a Lux Love sweater atop of a grey t-shirt that read 'ISLAND' across the front, dark blue jeans with a single cigarette and lighter in the left back pocket, and plain black boots with laces that went just above your ankles, you temporarily adjusted the box to hold it in your left hand, and began texting Toriel with the right.

'where do u live'. You almost immediately received a response.

'the green building near the school room 603. r u coming?'

'yes dont tell papyrus wanna surprise him'

'ok i hope to c u here soon child'

'u too'

Truth be told, you wore the eye patch all the way there, but before knocking on the door, you shut your eyes and tucked it deep into your back pocket. You heard the door in front of you open just a tad with the sound of creaking... something you had to struggle not to flinch against the sound of. Last time you let your father know you were home with a misplaced step... Alphys' voice quickly ripped you away from your momentary recollection and brought your attention back to the present. "H-hello, Frisk!" She spoke in a hushed voice, but stopped for a moment when Papyrus called from inside. "Alphys, whose there?" "J-just a min-minute, you guys!" You heard the floor creak under a thud. It felt like ants were running all up and over your skin, which you felt like you were about to jump out of at any moment, with your neck having gone cold and shoulders tense, though easily hidden by your sweater. If Alphys noticed, though, she didn't say anything. "Tori-Toriel told us about your, uh, plan. So glad you could- you could make it." You mentally noted that she stuttered a bit less around you and the others. You hoped this meant she didn't recognize you from when you smoked on the roof.

Whether she recognized you are not, she took your hand and led you inside, probably assuming that you wouldn't be able to see where you were going. Half-true, you supposed. After taking a few steps, she made a shushing sound in your direction and had you crouch behind what you assumed to be a counter or table of some sort, gift and card both still in hand. Once you heard her take a few heavy steps away, you squinted your left eye open and did a few quick looks across the obvious stimuli. It was a plain, small-ish living room, apparently conjoined with the kitchen if the bright light in the corner of your eye and the obvious voices hinted at anything. A simple green couch sat in the middle, facing out towards an average sized television, one window directly behind it and two more on either side allowing sunlight to filter inside the otherwise dank-looking space. A bookcase stood against one wall, mostly filled with Toriel's cookbooks and Alphys' science-y stuff. In the far corner, to the right of the TV, was a mess of blankets and pillows; like a little nest. There was a similar heap on the couch and up against the side of the coffee table the TV stood on. . You didn't get a chance to see much more when you heard Papyrus speak up, and figured it was time to close your eye.

'IT'S TOO BAD THE HUMAN WAS NOT ABLE TO PARTAKE IN THE GREAT PAPYRUS' BIRTHDAY..." Papyrus sounded disappointed, but at the same time, his tone almost expressed him trying to be happy; after all, they _were_ on the surface now, weren't they? No longer trapped Underground, now with Aboveground stores and foods and sights... as an idle though, you wondered what they did with all that gold. It goes a long way up here, and could have easily gotten a nicer or bigger place. "Quite..." Toriel commented, though you could easily detect a slight giggle in her voice... something Papyrus didn't pick up on. You heard her take a few steps closer, first around your side then towards your back - you were now facing the counter, with your back to the room - "Well, I suppose we should-" She broke off, faking a startled gasp, though you didn't pay much attention to it, trying to calm your pounding heart and jittery nerves. Those footsteps... were not pleasing to your memories and therefore your mind. You suddenly felt her arms under your armpits and you came dangerously close to breaking down on the spot - watching your attacker - father - and getting it over with was one thing. Cutting off your sense of sight and feeling the despair in a much deeper, more intimate way, was something else.

Toriel held you out at arm's length. "What's this? A human? They have invaded the house!" You could only assume that Papyrus had gotten overly excited and jumped from a seat when you heard the clattering of silverware and a table momentarily getting knocked as to collide with the floor yet again... then a sharp inhale... and chuckling. "HELLO, TINY HUMAN! I SEE THAT YOU HAVE TRIED TO PULL A TRICKY TRICK ! WELL, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE NOT BEEN FOOLED! NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!" He paused and you felt the present carefully removed from your hands, and the excited sound of its contents being shaken around in its cheap confines.

"IS THIS A GIFT FOR ME, HUMAN?" You gave two-thumbs up and a grin, wondering of Sans was doing the same thing back to you in secret, like you had once caught him doing with your left eye so squinted, it looked closed. "OH, THANK YOU! CAN I OPEN IT NOW?" Another thumbs-up, and you heard the quick tearing of paper, and a delighted gasp at the sight - everyone's suddenly gasping a lot, aren't they? You mused. First he read the card, midway stopping and thanking you for it several times over, excited at the little artsy project to look forward to, then deeply expressing his gratitude for each and every item he found inside.

If only you could _see_ the happy look on his face. But then they'd know you _lied_. Alphys would know that was _you_ smoking on the rooftop. That was _you_ ignoring them in all your classes. That was _you_ dimming some of the energy displayed. Sigh. Your eye patch felt like a rock in your pocket, while your left eye wished to be fully open and have an actual view of the place... to see again... and it would, it just wouldn't see this apartment.

The party went on for what you could only assume to be hours. After finally convincing Papyrus to wait until after the party - there were festivities to be had! - to start physically using his presents, you were lead around the place by Asgore, much to the disdain of Toriel, counting your steps and using your hands to get a better 'view' of the environment without your sight. There was cake, and games, and even a movie! Though Toriel had to whisper to you the scenes and when someone moved, audio served quite nicely as to what was going on... like an audio book of pure dialogue. You felt comfortably warm inside, like Toriel's and Asgore's hugs.

The clock began chiming; you counted six, and suddenly went stiff. You quickly tapped Toriel's shoulder. Once you were sure she was looking at you - "What is it, dear child?" - you pointed to yourself, then made a typical child's drawing shape of a five-sided house; a triangle atop a square with your index fingers in the air. She seemed to understand what you were trying to communicate to her.

"Oh, I'm sorry you have to go child. Please, feel free to visit anytime you'd like!" You nodded vigorously, though some part of your mind sneered that it was unlikely, and navigated yourself to the front door, everyone calling one sort or another of farewells and see you agains, to which you waved, then leaving and closing the door behind you with a little click. Your chest felt cold as you opened your eyes and put the eye patch back on, meanwhile pulling the cigarette and lighter from your pocket and, once lit and in your mouth, took a few huffs. Every inhale mimicked the warmth you had just felt moments ago, though much cruder and only lasting but a few moments at a time.

As you turned to start walking towards the stairs, you heard a quiet hum, immediately followed by a click. When you turned your head, though, there was nothing there. How strange.

* * *

"The end," Sans concluded, slowly closing one of the new storybooks and setting it aside, though never moving from his perch on the couch. Papyrus rested under his blanket and pillow which he had brought with him from the Underground, fully calmed and most likely asleep; and who could blame him? Sans' voice, in simple terms, was deep and could almost be described to sound like a purr. Naturally sounding comforting, and would no doubt soothe his brother into a restful sleep with a cute bedtime story or two. He smiled, though this smile was unlike his usual grin. This was more... gentle. Content. The fragile sort. Toriel watched from an X-large sleeping bag that she'd set up for the night only a few feet from the couch, wearing a similar expression. "Come now, Sans," she whispered softly, "It's time that you and I get some rest as well." True to what she said, everyone had long since fallen asleep in their respective areas, some even having listened to the story, though would deny it if questioned. Undyne and Asgore ended up in the bedroom, due to space issues and Tori's whole despising thing, most likely unconscious, and Alphys had already fallen asleep as well, curled up comfortably in her corner.

"I will, Tori," he responded in a low volume, as Toriel nodded in response and closed her eyes to rest. "Goodnight, Papyrus." He laid on his side with his head on the pillow, not really feeling the need for a blanket, but allowing them to remain draped on the couch randomly. Right as he felt himself drifting off, he heard Papyrus mumbling, half-conscious apparently. "Sans..." His voice not as excited as it normally is, though perhaps due to fatigue, rumbled out, mostly from his chest. "Papyrus? Thought you were sleepin' like the dead... what's got your vertebrae in a knot?" Papyrus, for once, didn't seem to care much for the comment, instead replying with a question.

"What do you think... about the tiny human?" Sans, instead of replying, made yet another humming noise, though now with inspection, it was more like a purring or soft growling emitting mostly from his chest, around the rib cage. "What do you think of them?" He finally responded. "I think... we're lucky to have them... The Great-" he yawned, "Papyrus... can no longer imagine... how we lived without them... would not know what to do... if something happened..." he slowly drifted back into the dreamworld, quickly becoming unresponsive and turning over a little in his nest, sliding in a little deeper.

"Me too, bro," Sans responded a bit slowly, recalling how odd Frisk had acted all week... pretending to be someone else, brushing off the 'Frissy One-Eye' - he later heard them called 'Freaky Friss' and 'F. F. Cyclops', and it took quite a bit of his willpower not to gaster blast those students on the spot for insulting them - like it was normal occurrence. As if they were a _different_ Frisk. Not _their_ Frisk. In a sense, he supposed that was true, but it was also true that the Frisk they knew could have just been a fake disguise for the one they saw now. That the Frisk he had seen with a medical eye patch, filthy clothing, cigarette in hand, smelling like alcohol... pretending they were someone else and lying all the while... was the real Frisk.

Obviously, as their friend, he would stand by their side, but the whole idea of it... the whole concept... left him feeling a bit nauseous. Besides... you don't treat friends that way... some answers would be needed and gotten.

* * *

 **Word Count: 2,906**

 **Help. I need skele-puns. I'm not very good at jokes or puns... not that I really ever cared for them...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This chapter takes place at the same time as when Sans and Toriel are falling asleep. Sort of a filler. Expect it to be a bit short.**

* * *

Wet coughs erupted from your chest, muffled by your arm to not let _him_ hear. Times like these make you wonder why you ever felt Stockholm syndrome for your demon of a father. With your torso crying out in pain, aching internally, much deeper than the skin, your flesh marred with an assortment of minor injuries and made sensitive to the touch, and your burning lungs that _couldn't breathe fast enough, choking-!_ but strained effort would provoke a short but violent coughing fit.

Your arms and legs rested limply, clearly not to be disturbed, lest to invoke the searin assault of pain that even your bones would feel. Even now they fully throb, the slightest jostle or movement coming just short of bringing tears to your left eye. What you wouldn't do for a spider donit, or spider cider for that matter... anything that would heal you up some. Worse than that, though... your SOUL pounded. You couldn't see it, but you heard it beating loud and clear. It sounded close - why wouldn't it be? - and it filled the silence that had stretched, besides your forced but careful breaths _scratching your throat, precious oxygen burning it all_ that were very gradually evening out, though not anytime soon. It felt weird, though... like it was in... like it was supposed to be in an awful sort of hurt, but at the same time felt just on the border between discomfort and the slightest sharp pain of a pinch. It was... disorienting, to say in the least.

You mentally thanked whatever or whoever cared to listen that you had collapsed on your bed and not on the floor. Crummy as it was, it was better than the floor. At least, you'd like to assume that. Quite a number of times you actually had spent the night on the floor, unwilling to move any further to the bed. While nice for your fatigued form, it actually was quite comfortable but in the morning you would wake up feeling stiff, sometimes with a crick in your neck, any form of sudden movement or stretching causing your sore form to cry out in pain.

While you knew you should be getting a first-aid kit from your backpack and at least disinfect the open wounds, your entire being moaned in protest to the notion. Apparently you wouldn't be doing that for the time being, instead relaxing a little further into your bed and focused on your breathing. You slowly started falling into time with the steady beat your SOUL emitted, the tone mute to all others to which you would fall into light sleep with.

Cigarettes wouldn't cut it anymore. You hated that you were following the same descent you had the first time around, but simply wtting your feet wouldn't be enough anymore. In the morning you'd have to go looking for your 'stuff', or maybe restock with some old... connections. You mentally shook your had at this. You wouldn't be calling them up. You'd rather not, even if you could. They're jerks - what much else is expected, really - and you had other means to reach the end. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.

It went like this the first time... a particularly bad punishment would be fished out, and the feeling would slowly grow. The feeling itself is rather hard to explain, and can be best likened to suffocation. Like you were retching, hundreds of pounds of pressure _that should be killing you_ but _your are alive_ , feeling _all the effects_ and it **_HURTS_**. _You can't breathe, it's crushing your chest_ but _you're watching everything and everyone around you through a hazy film **(Why can't you see their faces? Why can't they hear your cries?!)**_ , always _unresponsive_ , but they can **breathe**.

You snapped out of your dark train of thought. That wasn't what you wanted to be thinking about tonight. Why you sunk the first time was quite simply a long period of bad nights, and the bullying was turning physical at the same time. Physically abused by day, and physically, then emotionally abused by night. You hated your father but as if he could read your mind he would emotionally blackmail you, mostly about your dead mother. You then found resources by which to make it stop hurting, and you used them. Similarly, you had temporarily forgotten how bad it was, and it hit you, rearing its ugly head once again. That's all. This night had been another particularly bad night.

It was because you had gone to Papyrus' birthday, but you didn't blame him at all. You're glad he enjoyed the party and his gift, so instead you chose to blame your father for doing this all in the first place. Pinning your mother's death on you. Pinning the blame for loneliness on you. Really, instead of listing it, you'd just flat out say it's the whole damn cake.

As long as your friends would be happily oblivious, though... you would remain determined.

* * *

 **Word Count: 887**

 **Gee, this chapter is shorter than I thought it was. I was hoping for at least 1k.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Heads up for the future of this story: once the actual plot story is done, I don't want it to end there. Instead there will be little one-shots in chronological order. No real events, but just more day-to-day stuff. After all, who doesn't love our Undertale cast?**

* * *

It was Wednesday now; lunch period, just a few minutes from transitioning to Biology. As far as you knew, your juvenile tormentors were in the cafeteria or elsewhere in the buildings. Save for those among the 1/3-1/2 of the school that doesn't show up. You, however, sat outside. Specifically under stacks of unused bleachers, tossed without care against the school's entire back wall. It was normally for 'games' and 'competitions' but your school never participated. No one really cared enough and thus the seats weren't needed. However, it served other purposes. Some dark, some bright, some disgusting, some wet. The purpose is served you was wretchedly wonderful. True, in context, it was really just a little hidey-hole, but it was what hid behind the blue and silver paint that made it so putrid. Because of the way they were stacked and never bothered from there on out, it was near-impossible to see anything inside. If you happened to, however, it would be barely enough to piece together anything, much less a person.

A pretty nasty bruise was forming around your chin and jaw. It didn't seem like it would be much of an impressive shiner, but nonetheless, it would be hidden. Lest you wanna walk around with it all day, which you didn't. So, you went through your backpack rather slowly. If you were late, it would only help you to remain hidden from your friends. You were already notorious for playing hooky. It wouldn't be too out of place if you were to do it again. So, you took your sweet time in searching. Your backpack, just as it had been before, wasn't so much for carrying books - though there was a binder full of loose leaf -, but more for first aid kits, makeup (mostly foundation, concealers, blush, eye shadows, highlighter and some weird greenish gel), some air freshened spray bottles (though sometimes you would clip one of those 30-day bottles on your person), a change of clothes or two... and some stuff to satisfy your... needs... Sometimes you had the extra parcel or two, and would even occasionally hide your cash in there, but that was mostly what it consisted of.

You groaned a little as you tossed aside a third container of what used to be liquid concealer. There wasn't enough in any so far to dip the brush. A bit aggravating, to say in the least. Perhaps you could clean out your luggage more often...

"I-I saw them come-come out back he-here... they can't have gone v-very far..." You suddenly heard Alphys voice, and you quickly pressed yourself into a tighter space between bleachers, curling into yourself. It would be much harder to see anything there, much less a distinct person. Moments passed and you didn't hear anyone respond, so you mentally deemed it safe enough to reach out your arm and pull your backpack towards you and clutch it against your chest, then waited a few more minutes.

Not a peep to be heard.

Carefully and ever so stealthily, you pulled away from the tight spot and back to the slightly larger but still minuscule clearing to continue your repetitive task. Or, that's what you wouldn't been doing if you hadn't noticed something... out-of-place from the corner of your eye, and then.. a voice. "Hey kiddo. Don't think you're supposed to be out here. Is dangerous, you know," Sans spoke from behind you, knocking his skeletal hand experimentally against one of the bleacher poles a few times. The whole thing shook precariously, but the logical part of your mind reasoned he's used magic. You'd knocked into these countless time, not a moan of protest coming from the structure. Heck, you couldn't budge it even if you tried (which you _had_ once... not a very happy story or reason). "Plus, yer missin' class. Maybe we should get back, huh?" As lighthearted as his tone was, there was also a clear unspoken message that clarified it as a serious demand. Not a single pun was to be heard. You hated what you were about to do, but...

Stay determined.

"No, I think I'm gonna stay here," you said as you zipped your backpack shut with more force than necessary. Then... you swore you heard the first few bars of Megalovania faintly kick up and die. Sans wasn't playing around (though you already knew this). "I don't think I gave you an option, **kid**."

* * *

"I don't think I gave you an option, **kid**." Sans hated seeing you suddenly shrink away , but you seemed unable to confide so he had to go about it a different way. He didn't like seeing you like this. He wanted to just go to Grillby's new place or maybe get a nice cream with you... be pals. But when you started shrinking away, putting your hands behind your head and curling over, primarily about your stomach, dropping to your side and, just barely, _shaking_? He really knew something was up. "H-hey, kid... I wasn't gonna hurt ya..." You remained on the ground, his words barely even reaching your ears. Your heart pounded loudly against your rib cage, making it hard to concentrate on your breathing. Your head was spinning and you had nothing to calm your breathing down _to_.

As if reading your mind, Sans quickly came over to try and help, but when he touched your arm you suddenly jolted and flung around to slam your back into the wall, facing him straight-on. He looked taken aback, and everything suddenly came into focus. Your world straightened itself, and you realized what had just happened.

"I changed my mind," you mumbled quickly, grabbing your bag and hurriedly weaving through the metal all about you. Sans whispered under his breath and vanished into a shortcut. You, however, once out of the intricate prison, went around the school, towards the front, where you stood on the sidewalk. The flow of cars and buses was picking up, the sheet amount slowly climbing. It was that time of day, after all, where many people would be making one of their daily commutes. You glanced around. No pedestrians. The driver didn't care much, passing through the area to their respective destinations. Many ran red lights, because there was no one there at the crosswalk. It would be _so easy to go on the signal and just get hit-_ you immediately cut off your train of thought. You may be some sort of depressed, but you sure as hell knew you had friends _just remember you're doing this for them, to keep them happy_. Vanishing wouldn't do much good in that regard, and thus attempting suicide is no longer an option. Steady determination and endurance had taken its place.

You waited for the signal and crossed the street, keeping your hand up as a 'stop' gesture for the drivers, who although they beeped at you, knew you had the right of way and stopped accordingly. After a couple more twists and turns, you reached an old park, not far from your house or school; sort of an in-between point. It was meant to be a kiddie playground, with a little swimming lake for the summer, but it became the dark graveyard. Condoms of sex-based relationships were now all that sat at the bottom of a filthy water body, flora wilted from alcohol and cyanide... suicides had been successfully preformed here, the dried bloodstains of years past still evident in some of the rocks, with the occasional forgotten noose looped around a tree branch a few times, away from immediate view. The occasional forgotten pill bottle lay about, some with expired items inside. But no one cared. And neither did you.

Quietly, and a bit stiffly, you seated yourself on one of the few benches left. It creaked under you, though you didn't weight much, displaying its old age. The wood was splintered, no longer treated, and metal rusted. It not breaking was quite a miracle. Yet, you came here time to time. Why you did, you were unsure. Perhaps to remind yourself that this world isn't too peachy, though you were constantly reminded. Maybe because even that became surreal as time passed. Because after awhile you would slowly feel yourself numb, as if you were there but _not there_ when you were punished. This place... could be likened to an anchor, and you the ship, if an analogy could sum it up. You sighed through your nose and put yet another cigarette in your mouth. While many people say it won't help much, it made you feel warm inside, for a few moments. It was unforgiving and biting, but it made you warm. That was all you really wanted out of it.

Your phone buzzed with a new text, so you decided to check it immediately this time. Maybe if you were more... active, they wouldn't be as suspicious. A part of you said it was stupid to think they wouldn't and ignoring Toriel's text had done very little to help, but you were readjusting back to reality. Not that they knew that, and therefore not a plausible excuse. Oh well.

'wanna go to grillbz? ill make sure its a SANSational time'

You giggled a little, followed by a short coughing fit, but inwardly hoping (desperately and blindly) that he hadn't hit the nail on the head quite yet, but you texted back, carefully thinking about all the ways that it could be a trap that came to mind. It hurt that this is how you had to converse with your friend, but there was something vital you forgot to take into account; the time.

'sure but i dont know where the new place is. can u pick me up?'

'gee i wasnt expecting a response so soon. shouldnt you be in class now?'

Your mind blanked and you panicked, drawing up excuses from your memory bank at the random until you finally came up with one that was somewhat reasonable.

'i wasnt feeling well so i left early'

'oh okay. how do u feel now?'

'better but i dont think i should go back today'

'k. wait how can u read this?'

More random excuses... more... more... oh god, you hated this one. The one where you _had_ to portray your bastard father as a good guy. No helping it, you supposed.

'my dad is relaying for me he says hi. where do u want to pick me up?'

'by the school'

You paused, catching the trick this time. Catch as many as possible and avoid having to use excuses... harder than it sounds with Sans. He's so goddamn observant... you admired that about him, but now it was working against you when you were trying to protect him. The fat, ugly truth is only going to hurt him and the others... he doesn't know what he's getting into.

'which school?'

'63 the one near the apartment'

'kk what time?'

'when school lets out'

'how long is that from now?'

'around half an hour. say your dad seems nice. why doesnt he come so we can meet face to face?'

 _Oh my god Sans if you knew what a devillish abusive ass my father was, please don't make me get into this, this is going to be hard... but **stay determined**_.

'dad: hi sry for interrupting conversation, just wantedd to say cant come becauz have work and erands'

'ok, mr. doe. sorry to hear you cant make it'

'dad: is okay. f: so meet you there in half an hour?'

'k. u know, there's a student in a class i teach. their name is also frisk doe. you know them by any chance?'

'oh shes my cousin. her name is actually alexandra, we call her alex, but most becuz we look a lot the same a lot of people dont bother to tell us apart and call us both frisk or alex. frisk caught on better for sum reason and even the teachers wrote her down as that.'

'k, she seems a bit odd if you dont mind my saying. i found her hiding in a pile of bleachers just a couple minutes ago'

'yah when she wants some privacy she goes to some hidey hole somewhere, i dont even know half of them'

'k. so see u soon?'

'yeh'

The conversation ended, and with a grim realization you leaned into the bench. He only made that one pun in the beginning of the conversation, but the whole thing... he was drop-dead serious investigating. Dammit.

"I'm so screwed," you quietly groaned, quickly becoming distressed. Sans, meanwhile, actually stood just a few feet behind out, clear of your peripheral vision, leaning gently on a tree. His hood was up, and one of his hands was in his pocket. The other quickly clicked his phone shut and stuffed it in his pocket along with his hand. Some would say he was casually blending in, but he was a splotch of blue in a yellowed landscape, staring at the back an unawares person. He never moved from his spot, though, continuing to gaze with blackened eye sockets. His pupils, neither normal or glowed, weren't to be seen. The smile was gone from his face... instead replaced with an intense frown.

"Why are you _so screwed?"_ he mumbled under his breath inaudibly. "I just wish you'd tell us, just one of us, what's wrong. At least say it out loud..." for the first time in a long, long time, the last time dating way, way back into Sans' timeline-extended lifespan, was he utterly confused and at a partial loss of the next step, as well as how to properly adjust based on you, the ever-changing variable. Perhaps coming up with a fully-mapped plan in the first place would also be a good idea.

He made his odd ?humming? sound and vanished before you even registered hearing it. Well, today is another day, you supposed. You just had to survive Grillbyz. At least you'd get to see him again. You liked Grillbyz. He's nice. And much more reasonable that nearly everyone you had met in the Underground. Maybe he could keep a secret...

No, you shook your head. At least, not until much later. He would be concerned, but it wasn't too big of a deal, right? He wouldn't act as drastically as your other friends would, and would respect your privacy if you asked him not to tell anyone else, right...?

This game suddenly became a whole lot more dangerous.

* * *

 **Word Count: 2,540**

 **To be honest, my main reason for not liking the substitute was because I don't want the plot to be over too quickly. I want to kind of stretch it out, and Sans getting the full picture would make it jump forward over several parts I wanted to put in.**

 **I think we can all see where the next chapter is somewhat going. At least, the beginning/middle part. I still have yet to plan the filling details.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Me is stoopid. Me forget can remove chapter and post as diff doc. Me so stoops.**

 **Also, 'Alexandra' doesn't have to be ambigious, right? 'She' is just labelled as a 'cousin'. Also the reason why the burger sounds glorified is for one, obvious dark reasons, and two, I just think Grillby would serve higher quality food to his, not only his loyal customers but to his friends, at his own bar. He's a fair guy.**

* * *

You would have glanced around, if you hadn't already known it would be a completely futile effort. With your eyes closed and eyepatch in a little, cloth bad hanging off your jeans and all. There was other stuff in there as well, but while you wore your famous striped sweatshirt, casual jeans, and military boots... the bag didn't seem out of place by any noticeable means.

"Hey, kiddo. I hope you're still up for a humerus evening. Tibia honest, I'm glad you're still waiting. You're probably chilled to the bone by now, so lets get goin' before you start coffin... or else we might need one," Sans chuckled. You openly giggled. Sans' puns... you would never get tired of. Even if they were overused or old.. they were still funny to you. Thigh-slappin' hilarious. He had a somewhat relieved smile on his face, just a bit of worry fading out from his skull... though couldn't see that and all. He took you by the hand and started leading you off to what you assumed to be one of his infamous 'shortcuts', A.K.A. several rips in space and time he found and used to help him be the lazy man he was now. Subconsciously you tightened your grip on his hand. At surface is felt cold, or at least it should, but at the same time it was comfortably warm. Like the fireplace at Toriel's house back in the Ruins.

A short but semi-severe wave of nausea and dizziness passed over you. He really did use a shortcut, then, and having your eyes closed only served to upset your already uncomfortable stomach a bit more. Then, the lively sound of chatter and silverware filled your eyes, the thick smell of grease permeating the air filled your nose, and the warm atmosphere you had come to associate with one place surrounded you. You were at Grillby's already. Hues or red and orange shone through your eyelids, replacing the normally present darkness of your eyelids.

Sans led you over to a barstool and you figured he sat beside you when you heard the seat creak and swivel. If you didn't know better, there should have been a whoopee cushion there, but you didn't bother questioning it. If you would at all, that would be for another time. A physical warmth, unlike the atmospheric one present, flickered across your front _face the sun with your back to the moon_ making your back feel a little chilly in comparison, and confirmed the suspicion you had of Grillby himself having drawn near.

"Hey Grillbyz. My usual, and... Frisk, you alright with a burger?" You nodded vigourously. Better than the crappy meals served at school - when Papyrus got in and became excited, though not perfectly edibly, it greatly improved the quality of some of the food.. but there was only so many types he could make and there was only one of him and at least four other cafeteria workers - and the occasional snack or fruit cup you'd quietly consume along with a soda or a water - and thus you were excited to have a meal. Grillby's, nonetheless, already tasted amazing enough on its own. Comparison could only improve or ruin. In this case, it would be improving. Your stomach happily agreed with you, though you noted with a bit of nostalgia - why, it was just food, one would say - that you would have to later.. deposit it in the toilet. And not the natural waste. Rather in half-digested form coming out the same way it went down. As much as you hated it, your father would be extremely unhappy if he realized _anything_ of this sort was going on. He'd first worsen your normal punishment, akin to when it was Papyrus' birthday, then physically force you to deposit it.

You felt much better about it if _you_ did it - that didn't make it any less revolting, almost enough to make you retch on its own - rather than him. But for now, you would gratefully enjoy the food. Sans drank ketchup at your side, and from the smell you assumed he also had gotten a burger. You could also smell another one in front of you, the steam gently caressing around your face, only serving to nourish the growing anticipation in your gut and warm you up just a bit more. You heard Grillby's shoes tip-tap away, but it felt like you were being watched. _It's warm but you feel cold inside_.

"You gonna eat your burger or what, kiddo?" You heard a hollow-ish, dulled thud, perhaps from a piece of plastic, and a slightly creak. Okay, know you _knew_ there were eyes on you. Well, eyesockets. And sadly enough, those eyesockets were owned by one of your friends. You nodded again and picked up the food, careful not to touch the still warm meat, lest you accidentally burn on the bread slices' contents. You blew on it a little until you deemed it safe to experimentally put into your mouth. You bristled at little at the new warmth travelling down your esophagus and now sitting in your stomach, practically radiating the same warmth. You were more than eager to sink your teeth into it a second time.

Sans was glad as he watched you, going back to his ketchup. You had always seemed a bit thin to him, though he had no other humans to compare the image to until they were finally freed to the surface.

It wasn't until you had just about finished half the delicious article of foodwhen you felt like you were hit by a freight train, though the reality wasn't really much better. You turned to Sans and held up an index finger in a sort of 'wait a moment' signal, then pointing towards what you assumed to be the door, directly opposite of the bar you faced.

"Ya need some fresh air, kiddo?" You nodded. "Mmkay. I get it. It can be a bit stifling in here at times. Though I wouldn't know, I don't have the lungs or the guts." Not his best one, but you giggled anyway, easily seeing what he meant by that. He hopped off his seat and took you by the hand yet again, leading you over to the front door. Not even half a minute passed when you were pulled in front of him, almost to collide with a door. "I'll wait in here. Grillby's watchin' our stuff, take your time." Once again your nodded - a crick was starting to form in your neck, or maybe it was just a little ache - and went outside. The warmth was quickly replaced with a comfortable coolness. You dared a peek through your left eye to see the sun slowly setting. The exterior of Grillby's held almost no difference whatsoever to the old one. The most noticeable thing at most was that it was a bit larger now, perhaps made to accomodate more patrons.

But that wasn't your current concern. Your determination slowly wore thin, and as that continued on you either had to renew that or rely on your endurance. Which wasnt the strongest thing. It was better was a backup plan. From the little parcel at your side you pulled and smoked yet another cigarette that week, your count per day slowly increasing, likely to eventually match the amount before you fell. Whenever you'd tap off some ashes or lightly brush the butt of it against the wall you'd make sure it was well scattered. Every so often you'd cough into the crook of your arm, quickly expelling smoke from your nose and mouth. _Truly, the sword you hold in your hand is the same that had pierced your chest._ Ten minutes passed with three or four more, when Sans called from inside.

"Kid, you okay out there? I know I said I'd wait but our foods' getting cold." You frantically tossed the cigarette as far as you could without really thinking and waved your hands around to dissipate the heavy stench as much as possible, to yield little positive result. From your parcel you pulled a little spray-bottle meant from perfume. Where it once held an appealing aroma to improve appeal, sat air freshener that was supposed to smell like lavender but instead burned your nostrils with the overdone smell. Regardless you sprayed it on yourself at random, easily masking the smoky... smoke. You felt lightheaded and for a moment lost your balance but quickly steadied yourself, before putting the bottle away and shutting your eyes, opening the door and coming back inside.

Sans didn't say anything but took you by the hand and brought you back to your seats where the rest of the meal awaited patiently. However, the once warm lump in your stomach now sat uncomfortably, not unlike the cinnamon bunny the prior week when you returned to the house. You finished it anyway, but your stomach now felt tight. After you caught Sans' attention a few minutes later, you made the same signal to him as you had done to Toriel at the party to tell him you had to leave. Instead of your hand, he clutched your arm in his skeletal hand, almost tight enough that you worried about getting the cloth stuck in his joints, but at the same time internally wincing at how he unknoingly squeezed healing bruises. This time it felt like your stomach had done a cartwheel - not great for your current situation - so you assumed he simply teleported this time rather than take a shortcut.

When you landed on solid ground, your feet hit... wood? It became odder when he guided your hand to a wooden door.

"I, eh, met your cousin. It's late so I figured it would be safer for ya if I dropped you off here instead of on a sidewalk. See ya later, kiddo." You waved goodbye as the odd sound of crinking glass that accompanied a warp went in one ear and out the other. You opened both eyes and slipped your eye patch back into its rightful place.

Sans was right. It's getting late; not that you didn't already know that. If you had to guess, you'd say it was a few after seven. _His_ car sat in the road, pulled right up to the mailbox and garbage can separating the house from the sidewalk. You knew he'd be pissed - he probably already is - but you knew you had to go inside. With light and careful steps you treaded into the house. A TV blared from his bedroom, and from the kitchen you could see his door, down the hall and to the left. His bed was left of the door, out of your sight and you out of his, but you could see a little bit of the TV. It was some kind of news channel, but you never cared much for it. You were never allowed to watch TV anyway.

In the sink was the messily and poorly made remains of a meal he had likely tried to make himself. Around half of it was eaten so you assumed it must have been at least a bit edible, but he'd still be mad anyway.

You quietly slipped into your room without gaining his attention and straight into the bathroom, where the burger found what was far from its final resting place after a few unpleasant attempts, leaving your mouth burning with the taste of stomach acid. When you were finally done, you no longer heard the TV but instead saw his large frame standing in your bedroom, staring in at you through open bathroom doorway. You didn't know how long he had been standing there - and it reminded you a lot of, say, a horror game - but you knew you were in for a bad time. Pun not intended.

* * *

Sans quietly stepped over to where a cigarette lay in the grass a few feet from the entrance to Grillby's, only half of a whole, little ashes sticking to the wall like chalk. The filter was still a little wet, but the smoldering tobacco had long since been put out. It only let out a few ocassional ghostly wisps. He drawled out a long sigh, picking it up and holding it between his own fingers, though with no intention of trying it by any means.

"Why, Frisk?"

* * *

 **Word Count: 2,183**

 **Sorry for the wait guys. Hope this suffices.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I've been playing a lot of Wolf Among Us (the ending to chapter 3 really put me off though so I wont start 4 yet), and for some reason I wanna see Bigby in like a really emotionally weak state. Like, see his childhood as a pup and stuff like that, and I might even write a story on it. Of course, I wanna do this one. The actual plot will be short so there won't be many more chapters based entirely on this. I might spastically update some other stuff during, but this is my main focus.**

* * *

From a young age, you tended to have respect for people. Or, at least tried not to be rude; especially to people with firm beliefs, and held the most tender care around the idea(s) their faith largely rotated around. Your father was an exception. You never bothered to learn specifically what his 'religion' was, if he actually followed it, but he was an extremist in it - that tends to be the strereotypical image of said-religious people - and only made it look worse. Not that anyone ever saw. Sometimes when whatever was left of his 'humanity', or whatever recess in his soul would suddenly feel like it wasn't a good idea, he shut it up with the idea that you were a heretical murderer and needed to be punished accordingly. And that he saw fit to be the one to do it to said sinner; like the hypocrite he is. Around those times in particular he'd show up at a service or two. He'd 'pray' - whether or not he meant it, you didn't care anymore - that your soul would be saved, and you would come back to the light, whatever he thought that was, then turned around in the same instance to beat the living daylights out of you.

But you knew not everyone was like this, so when you were left to your own among the rambunctious group of younger children - where parents tended to leave their rowdy young ones so they wouldn't make a fuss in the while the head was speaking - you wouldn't do or say anything. No interactions. Around these times you'd be particularly angry, and the last thing you needed was to snap at an innocent toddler. Besides some other things. Many were far younger than you were, and your memory knew that you were, by age, no longer allowed down here. Not that it was really moderated. The supervisors never minded an extra older kid or two, and would allow it. A slight bend to an unimportant rule, where you would be right either way, as they elaborated. Many children had taken interest in playthings from toy bins left under folding tables meant for luncheons and little parties, while the other few took to games that didn't require, for example, a toy train. Games like tag, and manhunt.

So when a plastic ball bumped your leg, and a little boy, no more than three, came by to get it, with a bit of a waddle, a goofy grin, and outstretched arms came over to get it, you actually had to put your hand in your mouth and chomp down to not... commit something you might regret. Thankfully he quickly went away, and the feeling constantly generating in your being resumed being turned to blinding rage like it had been, festering and lashing out for something to connect with, like a wire. Somehow, though... his innocence... the childrens' innocence... you loved that. You loved that more than your anger was powerful. So you took it in stride. You'll probably go punch a tree later and come home with bloody knuckles. Truly, you were a little package of abounding passion. After all... rage and love are just passion, directed in different ways. It's like carbon; a building block. You'd be lying if you said you didn't think emotions were largely made of passion, if anything else.

A sigh was the most that escaped your multi-usage form. Isn't life grand?

* * *

 **Yes, I know, extremely short. Just a filler chapter. Don't be mad, please. I just wanted to get something out.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry I didn't update yesterday T_T Suddenly I'm in a depressing mood again... Please enjoy the installment and whatnot. Chapter for a little while may be more like drabbles rather than full-length things, so don't expect massive updates. Kinda at a block here, but kinda not. Just need to get past this part...**

* * *

You knew you had told Sans that 'Alex' was your 'cousin' and everything, but you didn't expect him to stroll right up to 'her' and greet her. It was rather confusing, to say the least, but you had a role to play. Like an actor, but darker.

"Hello, Miss Doe. Mind if I just call you Alexandra?" You shrugged, falling into a casual persona.

"Alex is fine." He nodded, and held out his hand to shake. The whoopee cushion was blatantly obvious, but it made you feel a little better. You shook his hand, and it let out an exaggeratedly long sound. Sans chuckled a bit to himself, mumbling his 'works every time' spiel. You... almost giggled, but instead settled for a small grin.

"So... shouldn't you be in the classroom already, watching homeroom?"

"Nah. They were hardly supervised before, and I doubt they'll want someone supervising now," he shrugs nonchalantly, stating this as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. By now he'd probably figured out that this was a crap school in a crap neighborhood in a crap area, but he was talking as if he'd been around for years. Like the old janitor.

"Fair point." He shrugged.

"Did Frisk tell you anything about me?"

"They told me you're really cool, and that you're a good friend. Said I would probaby meet you when she ran into that woman.. uhm... Toriel, was it?"

"When she'd tell you that, though?"

"I actually live pretty far away from here, so during the school year I stay at their house. I come home for breaks and everything, though."

"So you seem them everyday?"

"Yup, pretty much. Frisk can't go to school here, cuz' she can't like... see the board, or anything. She has private lessons or something, somewhere else in town."

"Makes sense."

"Yup."

"So.. cya in class?"

"Why would I miss comedy hour?"

"Tibia honest, you seemed to dislike it."

"I was just tired. Don't take it personally."

"If you say so, buddy."

"Mmkay. Your name is... Sans, right? I think that's what Frisk said."

"That's me, alright. Sans the sans-ational skele-pun making skeleton." You couldn't help it that time. You had to laugh... too funny for you, but you kind of thought it was worth it. Sans wore an oddly happy expression at this, but not long enough for you to really get a good look at it. It was in your peripheral vision anyway, and you could have just been imagining it, after all. "Welp, I gotta go before they do break the window or something..." Sans mumbled, walking away. You turned to try and tell him 'bye', but he was already gone. Probably took a shortcut again.

Honestly... this was going to make your future a bit harder and less predictable, but you would **stay determined**. Your friend have been dying to reach the surface for a long time now, and you couldn't ruin their finally happy ending by dropping this shithole of problems on them. Besides, they'd have enough to deal with once they started having conferences and getting into the media. You'd soon be left behind, and things would return to your 'normal'. You simply weren't meant for a happy ending, you realized a long time ago. You would just be satisfied so long as your friend reached theirs. They'd probably travel all over the world, meet a bunch of important people, and finally make room for monsters back on the Aboveground.

You'd still be here, going to school and slowly destroying yourself internally, something you were perfectly find with. And once they were sure they'd forgotten about you... you'd die in peace. Go somewhere they'd never find the body and finish it. You would rather think of it as undisturbed sleep, where no one could bother it. It may not have been a happy ending, but it would be a peaceful mercy. It'd be a long time before anyone realized you were even missing, besides your father, and you had absolutely no doubt that your friends could possibly be on the other side of the world at the time. Even if they did come back to the 'humble semi-beginnings' town, would anyone even mention it to them? Would any of them even go looking for you? Would it really bother them that much? Sure, they might pay some respects at some morgue, or something... but then they'd move on and be done with it. Just a second thought.

Thing is, you were fine with that. You didn't see what was wrong with the ability to move forward, regardless of the method. After all, most of them kind of did try to kill you. Or at least, attacked. Toriel didn't intend to kill you, but that didn't mean the burns didn't ghost on your skin every now and then. Papyrus' bone attacks weren't too pleasant to experience, and oh god Undyne's spears... among other things, like what became of the monsters subject to the determination experiments and Mettaton's many tries, and... Nabstablook's tears, even though you personally thought he was rather adorable and obviously could not stay mad at any of them, including the monsters and attacks not listed. Especially since you were friend and everything.

You had your moment in the spotlight. And now it was simply over. It was nothing new; and you certainly weren't the first to be subject to it.

A chiming/buzzing sound rudely ripped you from your deep thoughts. Time for 'English class' with your pun-making friend that you were telling complex lies to and physically lying through your actions to try and keep him from becoming suspicious and making sure he never realized the information in front of him. At least, never pieces it together. Life is such an ass, isn't it? Risking, failing, succeeding, repeat. You supposed LOVE, both the acronym and actual thing, were the same. You risk. Sometimes you fail. Sometimes you succeed. Then you do it again. What a wonderful paradox.


	9. Chapter 9

**H** alf

 **O** f

 **M** y

 **E** nergy

 **W** asted

 **O** n

 **R** andom

 **K** nowledge

 **I don't know if a shattered eye is a real thing, but I read it in another story where a character attempted suicide via jumping from a high place. I don't remember what they said about why his eye 'shattered', but because Sans only glows one eye I'll assume it's some kind of head injury. Due to the fact that monsters exist, I figured this would be a type of injury monsters could get, cuz' of how their HP and healing works. Idk about Undyne, though. I'm not even sure if hers will be brought into account. Really sorry for the late update, too... but I've been super-crazy busy for awhile now and can't find the inspiration to write anything because I'm so distracted. I wasn't originally intending there to be a chapter like this, but I replayed Undertale when I did have time and was desperate for something involving Flowey/Asriel. After realizing how it would help advance the plot quickly, and based on that I might not update as often as I'd like, chapters like this would be a good idea. I hope you guys understand 3**

* * *

It was a long walk to be sure' almost noon by the time you reached where the barrier once existed. From there you moved calmly through the Throne Room and past the Judgement Hall, both still appealing to the sense of sight and owning a pleasing, golden light. Almost as if it were the air itself. Regardless, you trudged past it and into the heatwave that was the Hotlands but didn't bother with removing your favorite black hoodie. On the way, you greeted the Riverperson who hadn't really cared for the surface. The dog-face on the front of the boat seemed happy when you passed by.

Waterfall was wet, as usual, but you you didn't take an umbrella until you reached the other side and kept it with you for the rest of your little backtracing journey, but paused for a few moments to listen to the statue. Something about it spread a small feeling of elation within you. Minuscule, even, but the slight relief it provided from the heavy fog you resumed calling your thoughts, movements... everything... was much appreciated. However, you forced yourself to keep moving. A feeling of sickness spread through your stomach in vein-like patterns, almost, as the sound slowly faded out of range. Shortly after, you waved to the Riverperson a second time. The dog-face wasn't there anymore.

The water on you mysteriously disappeared as you stepped into Snowdin's now empty snowy, forest wonderland. The snow sparkled at your arrival. The town lacked the same vivid life it once had, and now felt dusty and shelved rather than happy and noticeable. It just didn't seem right that even the footsteps faded out with the snow. You quickly moved past, only stopping to greet the Riverperson for the third time. Once you entered the Ruins, though, you really understood how abandoned the place was.

All the Whimsus, Froggits, spiders... everyone and everything had left. In Toriel's old home, you found a fair bit of the butterscotch-cinnamon pie still left in the tin. It still smelled wonderful, and somehow still warm. Toriel's magic, you assumed, kept it like that. A short nibble told you it wasn't expired. The cupboards were mostly emptied, likely from when the huge move to the surface took place. She likely took most of the dishware and utensils, which was why there were only a few left. Nothing fancy, but rather some plain plates, or sometimes with cheap designs. Still, you took two plates and two forks, along with the rest of the pie, and continued back through the array of solved 'puzzles'. You hadn't considered them puzzles, even when you came down here, but rather process of elimination. Finally, you came upon a small patch of what you assumed to be buttercups.

You remembered when you first fell here; you'd been certain that it had been the afterlife. Until you died and came back.

"Look who it is! Surface not good enough for ya? Well, golly! I guess I'll have to be the welcoming committee." You turned to see a familiar face, stems, and petals. "Howdy! It's Flowey the Flower! Remember me? I'm sure you do!" He exclaimed with just a bit too much joy. Then his expression suddenly changed to one of disgust and annoyance. "Now, what do YOU want? To rub your victory in my face? Proclaim your triumph and my humiliation while I sit and watch?" You stared blankly at him, and for a moment he seemed put off by the fact that your eyes were not only open, but that one seemed a bit... odd... but you went to sit next to him. He leaned away from you with a tight frown, but you firmly jabbed the umbrella into the ground so it shadowed over him.

In the moment where he was speechless, staring up at the underside, you spoke.

"It's gonna rain later." As if nothing out of the ordinary happened, you put the tin between the two of you and took a small piece in your hands to slowly eat at. Flowey looked between you and the pie for a good minute, before speaking.

"If you're looking for Asriel, he's not here. You know that, right?" There wasn't any sarcasm or annoyance in his voice. Just a stating the obvious sort of thing.

"Yeah," was your half-hearted response.

"Then why are you here? To make friends with me? Try and get me to come up onto the surface with you?" He directed a withered scowl your way.

"I don't know." Silence ensued for a little while. Flowey seemed like he wanted to make some sort of caustic remark about him being a plant and that the food was pie, but ended up taking a small bite of it at some point, anyway. That was all for the time being' then it began to drizzle. Little drops left spots in your hair and clothes but you still found yourself leaning back on your hands and looking up through the hole, but focusing your gaze more towards the edge rather than straight up, as it was about midday and the sun would be directly overhead.

"I thought you were blind," Flowery suddenly spoke. "Looks like I was half-right," he chuckled weakly. "That's what you'd call a shattered eye, right?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I thought you could only get those from a really bad head wound. And I've only seen it in one monster."

"Mm-hmm."

More silence.

"You must have a reason for coming down here. If it's not that wimpy crybaby Asriel or something about the dumb surface or your dumb friendship, then what is it?" He hissed. You simply pulled a cigarette from your pocket and lit it up with a lighter from the other. Two knots in your stomach simultaneously knotted and unknotted. Each did only one, and not the same that the other did.

"Want one?" You asked the flower, already certain of his no.

"Uh, no. I'm good," he responded with a slightly uncertain face glancing between your good eye at the tobacco-filled paper contained, currently on fire at one end. "You still haven't answered my question, **Frisk,** " he spat with a dark tone.

"Why does it matter to you so much about why I come here?" You finally grit back between your teeth, turning your face so he had a full view of your face. Your 'hard glare' may have been amusing had you been younger and both eyes intact, but with one eye looking like a piece of shattered glass and what once was either the pupil or the iris splattered around, some 'sections' with it mostly together near the center, one or two where it would be splattered like paint... one where it was just a mess all over the place. And yet, it completely lacked color. Everything was some sort of grey or black, and the sclera was a more deadly, pure white than the normal opaque one of the other. It even lacked the red veins. Flowey, although obviously having his rant turned down a bit by this appearance, still fired back,

"Because you obviously have an ulterior motive by this!"

"What ulterior motive could I have? You've listed all the possible things that I can think of, which have already been clarified to be false. Unless you have some others that you'd like to share?" He scoffed and opened his mouth to continue, but closed it and turned back to the pie. You released a heavy, smoke-filled sigh and reclined back into more of a laying position than stretched out sitting position. In the excitement, you had sat up straighter.

"Sorry for yelling," was your next, calmer sentence. Flowey said nothing, but looked up when the pattering of rain increased on the umbrella as it began to come down harder. At this point you pushed the tin closer to Flowey so it was also protected by the umbrella, then pulling the cigarette from your mouth and stuffing it into your back pocket, not willing to leave such a vulgar item in the Underground. You then fully laid down, rested your hands on your chest, then shortly afterwards closing your eyes. The cold, yet somehow soothing drops sprinkled on wherever your skin was bare, fanning little open spaces in the heavy fog existing in your mind.

You don't know when you fell asleep, but you do know that when you woke up, the sun had set and it had stopped raining. The umbrella was now positioned to cover your face. All the dishware, utensils, and the rest of the pie were nowhere to be seen, so you could only really assume that Flowey took them, though you weren't really sure why.

* * *

Above all, someone in the dark will desire to entire the light. Someone with a bad grade will want a good grade. Someone with a bad friend will want a good friend. Someone with a poor self-image will want to feel beautiful. This does not necessarily make the person selfish. It is selfish when they choose to act on it in a way that will hurt whats around them, and what other actions come as a result. There are, however, non-selfish ways to achieve this. If all this is correct, then it is natural that someone without a soul will want a soul. Someone who can no longer feel emotions would want to feel them again.

In the deepest reaches of himself, his desire was to feel again. To have a soul again. To be him again. Being around someone who had these; interacting with them, chatting with them, just hanging out with them... was the closest he could get right now. He would claw and grasp his way like a covetous, old, selfish sinner would, serving only to satisfy the voracious wants of his own. He wanted them to come back around, so he'd done something, while it meant nothing to him now, was considered kind by other (feeling) peoples' standards. Hopefully this would encourage their return. Besides, it wouldn't hurt if he developed a fondness for them. He'd done the same for something bad, so why couldn't he for something... good?

* * *

"Hi Flowey," you greeted calmly, having now brought your signature backpack, filled with many things.

"Golly, you came back. Goodie," Flowey deadpanned. "Why'd you bring that?" He gestured with a leaf towards your backpack.

"I've been called a renaissance person by my elementary school teachers and a few strangers who've seen and heard my stuff," you said seemingly out of nowhere, pulling a sketch pad and mechanical pencil from the pack, flipping open to a new page. Most of the pages were, although faintly drawn, depicted rather thoroughly drawn pictures.

"And... why is that?" Flowey didn't bother trying to pursue the earlier question.

"I have had a maladaptive interest towards the art for as long as I can remember. Apparently, I was so into it I actually was improving at it at the same time."

"Okay. What about it?" He couldn't help but watch the eraser end of the pencil dart every which way above the paper, sometimes in long, soft movements, sometimes in sharp, jerky movements.

"Just let me concentrate for a minute," was all the response he got, so he begrudgingly stayed still and continued to observe for what he considered to be about a minute, before abruptly bending over and speaking loudly.

"You happy now?" You nodded, but the pencil didn't stop moving.

"What do you do down here, anyway? I'm sure you don't stay here in the Ruins all the time."

"Does it matter? There's no one else here. Nothing to do," was his calloused answer, sounding a bit more on the 'offense is the best defense' side of things.

"Just trying to strike up some conversation," you backpedaled, pausing your drawing to click the eraser twice before continuing.

"What are you drawing, anyway?" He finally asked.

"You." You turned the book to show a picture of a rather faint drawing of Flowey smiling. There was an obvious, basic sketch made from basic shapes, such as a cylinder for the stem, an oval for the face, as the picture was coming from a slight downward angle, and the petals were trapezoids. There was an overlying, more detailed sketch on top of that, and you seemed to have been in the process of working on the petals.

"And... why are you drawing me?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Just because."

He didn't pursue that, either.

* * *

It was the third time you came to visit. Your backpack was now almost completely empty, save for a few small items... and an instrument. When you took it out, Flowey stared with a more blanked-out expression than anything else before starting to make a comment on it, like he had about other things you'd shown him and talked about in previous visits.

"Golly, a violin! Betcha can't play." He wore a smug expression now, but you actually found yourself chuckling quietly about it as you removed a bow and zipped the backpack shut. "Ya don't even got a violin case," he added in a condescending tone.

"Never bought one," was your usual categorically no-beating-around-the-bush type answer.

"Why's that?" No curiosity seeped into his tone, but you had a little feeling in the back of your head that he really did want to know.

"All I have is dirty money. I try not to spend it often, and I can only make little purchases from a credit card."

"What about all the GOLD you earned down here?"

"I dunno. I never got around to figuring out what I'd ever do with it... While the sheer amount of gold I have would get me quite a bit of cash on the surface, other than a few extra items I haven't needed until now... I don't know what I'd spend it on."

"Quite the observation," was his curt reply, turning back to look at the violin. It had obviously seen its fair share of usage and the strings had likely been replaced more than once, but other than that it seemed to have a good home in.. wherever you lived. At least, it seemed like that. The surface looked shiny in the sunlight and it had an impressive air of 'fancy casualness'.

"So, what? Are you gonna play something with that?" He inquired, watching you test a few quick notes.

"Yes."

"What are you gonna play?"

"The music box statue's song."

"You mean that dumb-looking thing in Waterfall with an umbrella?"

"Yep."

"This better be good."

Flowey couldn't help but almost enjoy as soft and sharp notes alike resonated from the instrument to display a beautifully composed and arranged song.

* * *

It was the fifth time you came to visit. You returned with just the sketchbook, but with no utensils.

"Flowey, I finished the picture." He popped up and looked over to you, and though you seemed as indifferent as ever, when Flowey looked a little closer at you, there was a bit of excitement beaming in your eye. Though he didn't know about other things yet, you couldn't help these. No matter how hard you tried to harden your heart so their words and actions wouldn't hurt you... you couldn't help but to feel. You liked feeling things like happiness and having fun, but for a good majority of your life, all it was was sadness, anger... hurt. You felt that the cons outweighed the pros and you kept trying to shut yourself off... but it didn't work. Ever.

"I bet ya drew me badly, huh?" He had the notion that you did an impressive job of it.

"That's for you to judge." You turned the book so he could see the picture. It wasn't lined, and seemed to be have been painted in watercolor. The Flowey in the picture practically glowed in the sunlight seeming to shine down from the top, surrounded by several flowers of the same color, yet somehow not as noticeable as he was. The edges of the outermost flowers blurred and gave the appearance of dissipating, as little light dots surrounded the edges.

He couldn't help but almost feel special.

* * *

It was the seventh time you came to visit. Beforehand, Flowey was seething, though he personally couldn't understand why. He tried taking out his anger on inanimate objects, resulting in a few broken items, which he was sure you'd notice anyway the next time you came by, so he didn't bother to try and hide any of it. He had just figured you wouldn't come by on that particular day.

When you did arrive, he turned to you, spiny roots and spiky extensions of his stem in the air, that demonic look on his face, he immediately began to hone in on you, ready to take out his anger on the nearest living thing. However... you didn't cower away. You stared right back up at him with a look of.. submission. It was all too similar to when you had first fallen and he knew you immediately recognized his 'friendship pellets' as bullets... and didn't bother moving out of the way.

All his anger suddenly vanished, and he pulled away, his face taking on a soft frown and everything else vanishing in the ground, leaving just his flowersome self.

He couldn't help but almost be plagued with dread.

* * *

This was the ninth time you came to visit. Somehow, you enjoyed Flowey's company. Despite all harsh appearances, he was more indifferent than anything else. It felt like what you needed now, rather than someone who would altogether hate, not care, or obsessively try to detain the behavior. It was obvious he wasn't expecting you to be someone who smoked, not that anything else was within his current knowledge, and then he wasn't the most easygoing about the topic, but at the same time he'd leave you be. Besides, he was the one person from the Underground, which was the most enjoyable time of your life, whose hopes for the surface world wouldn't be completely ruined by something like this. Seeing as he'd been technically killed by one surface world village. However, he had not expected to see you stumble into the space, already drunk, guzzling some foul-tasting liquid that claimed to be vodka - though you had your doubts. You had collapsed down into a sitting position in the middle of the flowers when he popped up.

"..." He'd been almost flabbergasted. Speechless was a more... accurate term. Apparently you had no need for a shot glass and could drink several shots in on swig without too much of a care. Forget about tomorrow's hangover, just throw back, you guessed. Eventually you turned to Flowey, slurring out a few words.

"Yous... look like ye wanna... say somethin'..." You forced out, averting your eye altogether from the sunlight. It was too early to be drinking, and you were too drunk to look at bright lights.

"...Why are you drinking?" He started, trying to keep any undertones from seeping into his voice.

"Cuz' today..." you paused to hiccup, "w'ss a real... shit-day."

"So... you had one bad day, and that gave you reason enough to get drunk?"

"Heh... if today... wus de' only bad day... I'd been singin'... hallelujah." Flowey blinked.

"...What do you mean, if?"A sick realization dawned on Flowey, but for some reason, he didn't find himself enjoying apparent suffering that appeared to be ongoing. Perhaps it was the pleasantness of the visits. Or something.

"M'dad's... a reaall jackass, ifya know... what'ah mean..." you slurred out, a thick feeling beginning to crush your chest, though you couldn't quite understand why.

"You mean like... abuse?" The last word was a whisper.

"Fer...as long as I can remember. Tossin' me around like a f'kin ragdoll..." You felt something warm run down your face. "The dumb bullies... at my school... my dumb addictions... my dumb desperate self..." You started choking up, and you vaguely acknowledged your face was wet. Your eyes burned and your chest felt like it would cave in on itself, and a pressure had built up in your throat. You were... sobbing. Why, you weren't sure. Your efforts to wipe your face were in vain, as it would immediately be replaced by twice as many tears. Flowey watched with a faint presence of helplessness. He couldn't feel. There wasn't a way he could understand what you were going through. Toriel and Asgore were never cruel to him as Asriel. As Flowey, he didn't care when Toriel hit him with a fireball, and he couldn't recall Asgore even seeing him as a flower, besides when he absorbed their souls.

But there was someone else who could help.

"Did you tell any of your friends?" He tried to pull a cruel tone of voice over it, but couldn't properly muster it. He could imagine them each overreacting heavily, to the point of storming your house and going on hunter mode whenever you'd enter the school building for the apparent bullies. He only felt his 'stomach' sink lower when you shook your head, the flow of tears having slowed down a little.

"Me thinks..." you paused for no reason, swallowed, then continued, "Sansy's... ontah me..."

"Why do you think that?"

"He..." Hiccup. "Caught me puttin' makeup.. on a bruise, behind..." your eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

"Behind what?" You started up with a small jolt, yawned, and continued.

"Behind the school... But... my eyes were open, n' stuff... I told 'im I was my cousin, 'Alex'..."

"But you don't think he totally bought it?"

"No..." You sniffled, another onslaught of tears spilling over, finally abandoning the bottle on the ground and curling up on your side, sobbing and whimpering pathetically into your hand, seeming to try and mumble something but ended up choking on it. Flowey watched with not a look of disgust, humor... smugness... but with an open-mouthed frown. There was something he knew he had to do, somehow.

Flowey couldn't help but feel the need to help his...


	10. Chapter 10

**I have no excuse for not updating in so long. For those of you that are still sticking around, I thank you deeply. You really don't know how grateful I am if you are still here, reading this. That said, I hope you enjoy the latest installment of Beautiful Lies and Hideous Truths.**

 **Also... I like my new username very much.**

* * *

You felt tears streaming down your face as your hand shook and the bright red slid down your pale skin, contrasting harshly. The metal in your hand bit deeper with each tremble, stung harder, brought to life _more of this awful river of red._ You let it get too far, too fast. You couldn't wait. You couldn't have waited until they finally left. You couldn't have waited until there would be no one around to care. You felt yourself slump against the cold bathroom wall, the red seeping out slowly and lazily onto the blue and white tilings. It had just been easier to stay there for awhile, listening to your thumping heart and weeping SOUL. So... so much _... easier..._

After what you would have assumed to be anywhere between forty-five minutes and an hour you pulled yourself up off the floor, the flow of blood from the wound having considerably slowed. Still, you took it upon yourself to clean the wound and bandage it tightly, tucking away the blade carefully. You swore you heard it snickering, feeling the little burns on your arms sting as the match boxes joined in. You tossed your backpack where you had hidden them aside, the noise diminishing. It was silent in the whole house; your father had left on a 'business trip', leaving you alone for maybe... two weeks? A month tops?

Despite having just set it aside, you felt something calling you, and you felt compelled to go there. He may not care but his company is as good as any. So, you stuffed a lighter and a cigarette or two in your pocket and put on your trusty eyepatch and hoodie, and a handful of change for the bus. You locked the door on your way out and actually went in the opposite direction for a good quarter mile, before finally pausing at the bus stop. You wanted to just sit on the bus for awhile before climbing that mountain. Not ten minutes later the bus arrived and opened its door welcomingly to you, and you dumped about half the change you had, taking a seat all the way in the back, next to a window. It set into motion and you felt it lift a little bit, beginning to move forward. Then, it began to drizzle lightly. The pattering of the rain was sweet to listen to and remained constant; you found yourself being lulled into a light sleep.

* * *

 **LAST STOP, MT. EBOTT**

You heard, snapping awake. The rain was coming down a bit heavier now, enough that you felt the rain seep through your clothes to your skin in a matter of a few minutes climbing up the mountain. About halfway up, you were walking across a small bridge over a short gap. The drop to a small lake below was far but secluded, and the bottom of the lake could not be seen... just the dark water. You're not sure why, but you stopped and spent a few minutes staring over the little rope supports into the lake below. You wondered how deep it was, and how hard it was to get to on foot. You shook your head and kept walking, a new thought in your head; a new idea. A more sure-fire way to do what you had failed to do the first time.

Soon enough you were at where the barrier had been and passed through with ease, crossing across the different sections of the Underground just as you had the first time, once again grabbing an umbrella on the way back, but not bothering to stop anywhere else. You waved to the Riverperson who waved back, you waved at the snowman who simply smiled back to you... and when you reached the clearing, Flowey was already there, seeming to just have been sitting around in the middle of the clearing, face up to the water, seemingly relaxed. He knew you were there, this much you were sure of. You acknowledged him with a small nod, opening the umbrella and seating yourself next to him so the umbrella covered the both of you. At the lack of rain on his face, he let his head tilt downwards a little, and the two of you were able to sit in a comfortable silence for a long while.

Until you felt a familiar, terrifying feeling. One that gave you chills down your spine and raised the hairs on the back of your neck. The feeling of predator stalking prey; you were being watched. Someone else was here, and you didn't know who or why, but they were watching you and _it made every part of you want to jump and run until you collapse and can run no longer_.

You played it cool and acted as if you didn't know anything; a specialty of yours. It seemed to work as nothing out of the ordinary happened within the next few minutes and you didn't hear a noise; if there was someone else here they weren't about to make a move. Flowey acted normally as well with the new relationship the two of you shared. You weren't acquaintances, but you didn't want to call it friends either... lest you offend him.

"So, what brings you back here?" He asked after a few minutes, looking up at you. Without looking at him, you responded,

"Just felt like it."

"Mm."

The silence ensued. You weren't sure what to do next or what to make of the situation just yet.


End file.
